


Jewels In Your Pocket

by AdamantSteve



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: 5+1, Blind Date, Dating, Fluff, Kidfic, M/M, Non-SHIELD AU, single dad phil
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-20
Updated: 2017-02-20
Packaged: 2018-09-24 11:14:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9721793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AdamantSteve/pseuds/AdamantSteve
Summary: Single Dad Phil goes on 5 dates... and eventually gets married to the man of his dreams <3





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [varjohaltija](https://archiveofourown.org/users/varjohaltija/gifts).



> For the Valentine's CC fic exchange for embraceyourfandom - I hope this is fluffy enough!
> 
> Huge thanks to the CC Squad for cheerleading and to Ponceflower and LillyJK for beta reading!

“And you have the number of the restaurant?”

 

Maria barely restrains a sigh. “Yes, I have the phone number of the restaurant, in case your fully charged phone somehow dies during your date.”

 

“Ok good,” Phil says, mentally crossing that off the endless list of things to worry about ahead of his - gah - _blind date_. 

 

“The number for emergency services is still 911, right?” Maria asks, her mouth curving into a sly grin when Phil looks panic-stricken for a brief moment. “Relax, Coulson, you’re going to give yourself a migraine. Go put on your tie …and that cologne Nick gave you for Christmas!” she calls after him as he heads upstairs.

 

He’s hesitating over a navy tie and a deep purple one, thinking maybe he ought to just go without - perhaps a tie is too stuffy - when he becomes aware of a small presence in the doorway. 

 

“Are you going out for your playdate?” Skye asks, one palm lackadaisically slapping against the doorframe, the other clutching the little rucksack that she’s taken to carrying everywhere lately. She has little daubs of blue eyeshadow on her cheeks, having decided to ‘dress up’ when she found out that aunty Maria was coming over. 

 

The presence of his daughter makes Phil relax a little, the tension he didn’t realise he was carrying unspooling from his shoulders as he nods. “That’s right, want to help me get ready?” 

 

Skye sits on the bed and chooses the purple tie for him, wrapping the navy one around her bare feet while Phil busies himself in the mirror. “Are you going to eat dinner? Are you going to go in an airplane? Are you going to see a mermaid?” She asks, having decided mermaids are the best thing ever since Nick showed her The Little Mermaid when he babysat during Phil’s last date six months ago. 

 

At least _something_ came out of that disaster. 

 

“Yes to dinner, no to an airplane, and probably no to a mermaid, but you never know.” He turns to find Skye putting an assortment of plastic beads into the breast pocket of his suit jacket where it’s laying on the bed. She stops, knowing she’s been caught, but tries to play it cool. Phil can’t help but smile. 

 

“Some beads in case you see a mermaid,” she explains. 

 

“Thank you, sweetheart, that’s very thoughtful.” 

 

“You’re welcome!” She calls, sliding off the bed with her backpack in hand and trotting off to the living room to see Maria. 

 

Phil looks in the mirror again and takes a deep breath. This is as good as he’s going to get. He pokes a little at his crowsfeet and is grateful once again that at least he still looks decent in his favourite suit. He shrugs on the jacket and fishes the beads out of the pocket, fondly putting them in the little bowl on the dresser. He’s glad Skye is so nonchalant about the prospect of him going out, he’s read enough parenting books to know that’s not always the case with young kids being raised by a single parent. 

 

“Alright, my Uber is outside,” he says once he’s gathered himself and come downstairs. “Can I have a goodnight cuddle?” 

 

“Babysitting is one thing, Phil, but…” Maria makes a vague gesture with her glass of wine from the couch. “You look good though.” 

 

Phil narrows his eyes. “Thank you. Skye?” 

 

Skye gets up from where she’s been colouring at her little play table, letting out a yelp of laughter as Phil hoists her up into his arms. She rather awkwardly hugs his head, small hands mussing what little hair he has left. “Goodnight, pumpkin, you be good for your aunty Maria, ok?” 

 

“Yes daddy,” she says, making a noise of protest when Phil finds a non-eyeshadowed area and blows a raspberry on her cheek. 

 

The car outside beeps and Phil puts her down. “You look pretty daddy!” Skye tells him before he darts out of the door for the car that’s about to pull away. 

 

-

 

Phil arrives at the restaurant and checks the time. He has a few minutes before his date is meant to arrive, so he heads to the bar for a whiskey on the rocks; something he can nurse for as long as it takes for Clint to arrive. That is, if he doesn’t take one look at Phil through the window and disappear. That happened once maybe twenty years ago, and Phil’s still smarting over it. 

 

“I like the glitter,” says the bartender when he places a napkin down before serving Phil’s drink.

 

“Sorry?” 

 

“The glitter, it’s cool.” 

 

“… Thanks,” says Phil, looking past the bartender to the mirrored back wall of the bar. Between the bottles of liquor and cocktail accoutrements he can just make his reflection out and sure enough, his head is… sparkling. He runs a hand through his hair and his fingers come away with tiny flecks of golden glitter stuck to them.

 

“Skye…” He mutters, thinking back to when his precious little devil hugged him just before he left, and her slightly incongruous “you look pretty”. He runs his fingers through his hair a few more times, but all that seems to do is spread the glitter further. 

 

“Phil?” Says a voice, and right, of course _now_ is when his date shows up, while he’s scrabbling at his scalp like a crazy person. 

 

“Clint!” Phil replies, head shooting up as he tries to compose himself. “Hi, hello.”

 

Clint is gorgeous, flashing a blinding smile at Phil’s awkwardness, which only serves to disarm Phil even more as they shake hands (Clint has big, solid hands and Phil’s almost overwhelmed). “Is everything ok?” 

 

“Yes, I’m - won’t you sit down? I’m just having a glitter crisis.” Phil grabs some napkins from the bar and wipes his hands. “My daughter decided I needed to look pretty for my date and, well.” He holds up his hands and shrugs. 

 

“I think you’re very pretty,” Clint says, and Phil can’t help the smile that forces the corners of his lips upwards. Clint clearly didn’t mean to say that judging by the way he’s almost blushing, but hell, Phil will take it. 

 

“I guess she did a good job then,” Phil agrees.

 

They have a drink at the bar - Clint opting for a beer while Phil rolls the melting ice around in the dregs of his whiskey. The awkwardness of their introduction soon wears off, and as they talk about their mutual acquaintances (Clint is Maria’s sister’s friend’s friend), Phil gets to take a better look at him. He’s miles out of Phil’s league - younger, well muscled from the contracting business he runs, a disarming, charming grin, bright, intelligent eyes and dirty blonde hair that has been lightly scruffed up with a little wax. Phil’s fingers want to reach out and touch it to see if it’s as soft as it looks. 

 

By the time they’re called to their table, they’ve moved past the introductions and have moved on to comic books - Clint politely chastising Phil for thinking that Iron Man isn’t the best Avenger. 

 

“Did Maria put you up to this? She knows how strongly I feel about this subject.” 

 

Clint laughs, and Phil imagines being warmed like a cat in a sunbeam by the sight and sound of this gorgeous man’s laughter. 

 

Clint says they should agree to disagree, as long as it’s not a deal breaker. 

 

“So, aside from glitterbombing you, what else does your daughter get up to?” 

 

Phil wipes his mouth as he studies Clint for any trace of boredom, or of seeming like he’s only asking to be polite. He’s dated people before who say they’re ok with kids, but as if it’s a favour more than anything else, like they’re just humouring Phil’s unfortunate hobby. But Clint seems to genuinely be interested, his eyes softening when Phil waxes lyrical about the time Skye put stickers all over some very important documents that weren’t discovered til he got them out in the middle of a meeting, and the time she tried to fix a houseplant that had fallen over by carrying _more_ dirt from the back yard into the house. 

 

“Your face just lights up when you talk about her,” Clint observes, and Phil sort of shrugs happily. It’s true, he loves his daughter more than anything. 

 

“To be fair, it may partly be the industrial grade glitter.”

 

It’s one of the best dates Phil’s ever been on, with conversation flowing easily and the sense of actual chemistry that might go somewhere if given half the chance. When the bill comes, Phil agrees to Clint’s suggestion that they split it, reaching into his inside pocket for his wallet.

 

“…Oh.” Instead of his wallet, there’s a bright blue snap purse in his pocket. He opens it to find that in lieu of money, it’s full of plastic gemstones. 

 

Clint snorts with laughter when Phil shakes them out into his hand. “Sorry man, I think I saw a sign that said no AmEx and no gems…”

 

“Oh no, really?” Phil replies, laughing and then shaking his head. “This is so embarrassing.” 

 

“It’s fine, let me pay, and,” Clint looks a little abashed. “You can pay next time?” 

 

Phil feels hope swell in his chest, a sure sign he’s cruising for an emotional bruising, but he finds he doesn’t quite care. “Next time,” he agrees.  He’s about to put the gems back in their purse, but holds out his hand. “At least take a gem.” 

 

Clint hums and pushes his index finger through the coloured bits of shiny plastic, tickling Phil’s palm til he finds one he likes - a purple rectangle shaped one that he runs his thumb over before slipping it into his wallet. 

 

-

 

Two weeks later, after many texts that make Phil’s heart leap in his chest every time he hears his phone, they go to the cinema together. It’s an action movie, though Phil doesn’t really follow the story as much as pay attention to the man next to him. He’s still debating whether or not to try the ‘yawn and put your arm around your date’ trick when he feels Clint slide his hand into Phil’s on the armrest between them. 

 

It’s at once a simple gesture and the most intimate thing Phil can imagine. 

 

They have dinner afterwards, and Clint talks with his hands as he explains how overblown the hero of the movie was, and Phil nods along despite not having really paid attention to the film. Clint rolls his eyes when he talks about how everyone says the lead is so handsome, such a pretty boy.

 

“Not as handsome as you,” Phil says, and Clint snorts and calls him a cheeseball. “It’s true.” 

 

“Talking like that, might think you were after something,” says Clint, wiping his hands on a napkin and licking his bottom lip. 

 

They’ve kind of talked around this subject before, but they’re both scared of freaking each other out, so someone always changes the subject before they really go there. But Phil _wants._

 

Phil takes a breath, and the tone of the conversation turns serious. “What if I was after something?” 

 

“Do you wanna come over?” Clint asks, like he’s daring Phil.

 

Phil’s in his forties, he shouldn’t feel like a kid that’s scared his voice is going to go squeaky as he tries to keep his cool. “God, yes.”

 

-

 

It’s another few weeks (including one or two passionate nights at Clint’s apartment) before Phil takes a deep breath one morning over breakfast at Clint’s kitchen counter and asks if he would like to come to dinner at his house. 

 

“You want me to meet Skye?” Clint asks, and Phil nods. 

 

“Actually, _she_ wants to meet _you_ ,” he admits. “She, uh, made this.” Phil reaches into his pocket and hands over a piece of paper that’s stiff with glitter glue and stickers. It’s an invitation that Skye laboured over with the help of Uncle Nick earlier in the week, inviting Clint on a playdate. Clint opens it gingerly, his strong fingers holding the paper like it might crumble in his hands. Phil’s at once touched by the gentleness with which he’s treating something of his daughter’s, and reminded of just how those hands felt on his skin last night.

 

“ _Dear Clint, plese come too my house for dinner. PS plese bring me a presint,”_ Clint reads slowly, deciphering Skye’s six-year-old scrawl as he goes. He laughs. “She’s pretty demanding, huh?”

 

Phil shrugs. “I told her that it’s rude to ask for presents from people, but after finding out you took one of her mermaid gems, she insisted.”

 

“Kid’s a hustler, huh? I like her already.” 

 

-

 

Phil doesn’t think he’s ever been so nervous while sitting in his own home. He’s managed to stop Skye from covering herself or anything else in glitter or eyeshadow or paint, and dinner is already in the oven with the kitchen tidied up. The dining table is set (with napkin rings kindly created by Skye), so there’s really nothing else for Phil to do than wait. There’s a stack of architecture books on the coffee table which Phil deliberated over for far too long when he was tidying, trying to pick ones he thought Clint might be impressed by or interested in. He picks one up and thumbs through it, not really paying attention. His mind wanders to thoughts of designing and building a house together, what it would be like watching Clint work…

 

“He’s here!” Skye yells as she thuds her way down the stairs, moments before the doorbell rings. 

 

She grabs Phil’s hand and hauls him towards the door, impatient as always. 

 

When the door opens, Clint’s face goes from concerned frown to relieved smile when he sees Phil and knows he’s definitely at the right house. 

 

“Hello, Clint!” Skye yells, letting go of Phil’s hand to grab for Clint’s to drag him inside. 

 

“You must be Skye, huh?” Clint raises his eyebrows at Phil on his way past and Phil barely gets the chance to brush a kiss against his cheek.

 

“We don’t grab our guests, honey,” Phil calls after them, closing the door behind them. She’s not paying him any mind though, chattering away as she directs Clint to sit next to Phil’s usual spot on the couch and places Clint’s bag on the coffee table.

 

Happy with Clint’s placement, Skye clasps her hands behind her back. “Would you like a drink?” 

 

Clint looks to Phil for guidance, where he’s standing in the doorway, laughing at Skye’s take on being a good hostess. Phil scoops Skye up instead. “I’ll get Clint a drink. Would you like to help me?” 

 

“Can I pour?” 

 

“Ok, but you have to be very careful.”

 

“I will daddy I promise!” 

 

Phil redirects his attention to Clint. “Wine? Beer?” 

 

“Uh,” Clint looks a little lost. “What are you having?” 

 

“Wine, but we have beer. This one’ll be having juice.” Phil bounces her on his hip as he speaks.

 

“Maybe juice?” 

 

“Juice like me!” Skye announces, wriggling out of Phil’s hold and dashing off to the kitchen. 

 

“She’s a little full of beans - she’s not always so - “ Phil gestures vaguely towards the open plan kitchen where Skye is climbing the little step ladder to reach the counter, darting off to steady the step ladder before finishing his sentence.

 

When they come back with the drinks, Skye frowns at the fact that Clint is no longer where she put him, instead looking at the wall of Captain America memorabilia Phil’s collected over the years. She carefully places Clint’s drink on a coaster and goes to stand by his side.

 

“That’s Daddy’s toys but they’re boring,” she explains. “They don’t even have hair.” 

 

“Hey,” grumbles Phil as he sits down. “Why don’t you go get some of your favourites and Clint can decide which he likes better?”

 

“Ok!” She’s gone in a flash, and Clint blinks like he’s dazed when he turns around to smile at Phil. 

 

“After dinner she’ll quiet down. You ok?” Phil gestures for Clint to come sit down, reaching out and holding his hand once he’s in reach. 

 

“I like your house.” 

 

“Thinking about how you’d knock through some more walls? Maybe put in a bay window?” 

 

Clint laughs and squeezes Phil’s hand. “You know it. This is all just a really long sales pitch.”

 

“Damn, why does this keep happening to me?” 

 

After a brief pause of smiling at one another like lovestruck teenagers, Clint bites his lip and suddenly looks nervous. “Hey, uh, I got her a gift - is that? Cool?” 

 

“You didn’t have to do that -“

 

“No, I know. I wanted to. And y’know, I did take that gem.” He smiles weakly.

 

“What is it?” Phil glances towards the bag on the coffee table. 

 

Clint shrugs. “It’s a doll.”

 

Phil gets caught staring at Clint, darting in to kiss him properly before Skye returns.

 

-

 

After Clint is shown an array of Skye’s favourite toys, he agrees with her that they’re way better than Phil’s, which Skye isn’t allowed to play with. 

 

“I guess you don’t need any more toys then, huh?” Clint asks Skye, busy manipulating Doctor Barbie to sit on his knee. 

 

“Daddy says I already have too many toys,” she says mournfully, and Phil scoffs. 

 

“Dang, I guess you don’t want another one then?” 

 

“Yes I do! Daddy!” 

 

Phil holds his hands up; It’s nothing to do with him. Skye turns her face back to Clint, looking for all the world like she’s on the verge of tears. Phil knows better, and judging by the way Clint’s smiling at her, he seems to know better too.

 

Clint reaches into his bag and Skye gasps at the Mermaid Barbie that’s revealed. It’s just a simple doll with long hair and a tail instead of legs, but Skye’s eyes go wide and she’s suddenly quieter than she’s been all evening. She looks at Phil for a nod before she reaches out and reverently takes the box, holding it in her hands and just looking at it. 

 

“What do we say?” Phil prompts.

 

“Thank you, Clint!” She replies, and then clambers into Clint’s lap to hug him. Clint lets out a small ‘oof’ and then gingerly hugs back, the smallest little smile lighting his face as he does so. 

 

“Will you open it?” Skye asks once she’s done with hugging, moving back to sit on Clint’s knee and holding out the box. Phil leaves them to it to check on dinner, looking over at the two of them contentedly playing together while he dishes up. He’s careful not to let himself be too hopeful - things are still pretty new, but Clint in his home already feels right.

 

-

 

It’s a perfect, sunny day when they finally have the picnic Clint has been trying to organise, and Phil doesn’t think he’s ever been so content to just sit on a blanket. It’s the middle of Saturday, Skye’s on a play date, and if things go well, they’ll head back to Clint’s this afternoon for a roll in the proverbial hay.

 

Clint is laying on his back, tossing a ball up in the air and catching it as he tells Phil about the garden he’s been planting for a client. He doesn’t have an outdoor space of his own at his apartment, so goes above and beyond when he has the chance at work. 

 

“You should re-design our garden,” Phil says, mouth full of one of Clint’s best sandwiches. “I mean, if you wanted to.” 

 

Clint catches the ball and stills. “Yeah?” 

 

Phil smiles, even though there’s probably bits of bread stuck to his teeth. “Of course. It’s not much more than a patch of dirt right now.” 

 

Clint bites his lip and goes back to throwing and catching the ball, most likely already drawing up blueprints in his mind. It’s too early really, but Phil can’t help but think of the home Clint might build for the three of them, their perfect picket-fence home.

 

Phil’s drawn out of his reverie by Clint’s phone ringing, the hand happily caressing Clint’s knee falling away as Clint sits up to fish the phone out of his pocket. He frowns when he sees who’s calling, and then stands up as he answers the call, walking away as he confirms his name to whoever’s on the line.

 

Phil can’t help but watch as Clint runs his hand through his hair in what seems to be frustration, too out of earshot for Phil to know what’s gotten him so riled. 

 

He’s finished his sandwich and is packing away their trash when Clint returns, his face shadowed by some internal struggle. 

 

“Babe, I’m really sorry, but we’re gonna have to cut this short,” Clint says, one hand mussing his hair once again. “I’ve gotta, uh,” he struggles with what he wants to say before he says it, like he’s trying to decide if he should confess something or not. Phil waits patiently. “I have to go see my brother. In prison.” 

 

Phil blinks a couple of times. He knew Clint’s brother was out of the picture, and had some idea that he was involved in some shady things, but didn’t know he was in jail. “Ok,” he says.

 

Clint looks distraught. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before - I know it’s… it’s a mess. I didn’t want you to think I was… I don’t know. Fuck.” 

 

“Hey,” Phil stands up finally to reach out, rub Clint’s arms and catch his eye. “Hey, it’s ok, it’s fine. Let’s take my car.” 

 

Now it’s Clint’s turn to blink. “What?” 

 

“My car’s the closest, and I was planning on spending the day with you so I have no other plans. I mean,” Phil suddenly realises perhaps he’s not wanted, and tries to backtrack. “I can just wait outside if you like.” 

 

-

 

Clint explains in stilted sentences during the drive that his brother is in jail because of being 1. An idiot and 2. A goddamn fool, and how despite this, Clint owes him his life. He tells Phil he’s sorry for the lie by omission, but once things were going so well, he didn’t know how to tell him “Hey, by the way, my brother’s a criminal who’s in jail.” Phil nods along and asks questions where appropriate, and once they pull into the parking lot attached to the prison complex, Clint turns to him to say, “Thanks, Phil,” before reaching across for an awkward hug. 

 

Barney Barton looks like an older, more redheaded version of Clint, and Phil has the eerie feeling that he’s seeing what Clint could be had he not gone down the path in life that he did. Like it’s just a twist of fate that Clint is on this side of the glass. 

 

He feels like a third wheel, sitting by Clint’s side. He can’t hear what Barney’s saying because Clint’s holding the phone on this side of the glass, but it seems that Barney needs Clint to take some files to the district attorney’s office, and he has to do it ASAP because of his appeal date. Clint tells him he’ll do it, and how it’d be helpful to know ahead of time - he can’t always be running here at the drop of a hat - he has his own life now. 

 

Clint gets up to speak to an officer about getting hold of these papers, leaving Phil there, picking up the phone when Barney nods towards it. 

 

“So, you’re Phil,” he says gruffly, and Phil swallows. He’s never been so aware of someone sizing him up before. 

 

“That’s right. It’s uh, nice to meet you.” 

 

Barney rolls his eyes and chuckles. “Sure, everyone wants to date someone who has a no good brother in jail. Don’t worry, I won’t cause you any trouble.” 

 

“That’s… very kind, thank you,” says Phil. 

 

“But listen to me,” says Barney, gesturing for Phil to come closer to the glass like he’s whispering, even though they’re connected via the phone. Phil comes closer so he’s looking right into eyes that could almost be Clint’s. “You hurt my kid brother and that could change. Are you hearing me?” 

 

“Phil?” Says Clint from right behind him. Phil jumps and almost drops the phone. Clint looks between them and frowns. “Is he giving you a shovel talk? Barney!” he gestures for the phone and Phil moves to the side to let Clint talk. “Barney don’t be an asshole, I like Phil, ok? I-“ He glances at Phil and whispers, “I _like_ -like him.”

 

-

 

Phil wakes up in his own bed, and Clint is there, sleeping soundly. He’s so beautiful - peaceful in a way he never quite seems to be when he’s awake. 

 

Skye must still be sleeping, considering there’s no sounds in the house aside from the soft in-and-out of Clint’s breath. It’s the first time Clint’s stayed over while Skye’s been at home, and Phil’s slightly apprehensive about how she’s going to take it. Clint’s been over in the morning before, even taken her to school a couple of times, but this is the first time he’ll have been here when Skye wakes up. 

 

Clint moves in his sleep and then blinks, makes a little noise as he moves to more thoroughly cling to Phil. 

 

“Morning, sunshine,” Phil says softly, leaning close enough to kiss Clint’s sleep-warm cheek. 

 

“S’it OK that I stayed?” Clint mumbles. 

 

“I want you to stay forever,” Phil replies, the arm slung around Clint tightening just so. 

 

“K,” Clint murmurs before falling asleep again. 

 

-

 

“And then we’re going to see the dinosaurs!” Skye exclaims, her little hands pressing against the kitchen table to emphasise the point.

 

“Dinosaurs?” Clint echoes, still adorably sleep-mussed. They have matching plates of waffles, which Clint put together while Phil worked on the coffee. “What kind of zoo is this again?” 

 

Phil’s about to respond, but Skye very seriously explains that the reptiles at the zoo are descended from dinosaurs, so it’s practically the same thing. 

 

“Oh, I see,” nods Clint, breaking off when Phil hands him a mug of freshly brewed coffee to inhale deeply and hum happily. “So, what’s your favourite kind?” 

 

That sets Skye off on a speech about which is the best dinosaur and why, and slightly disturbingly, which animal in the zoo could eat all the others. Clint hums in agreement here and there, but spends most of the time smiling Phil’s way, and then holding his hand over the table as Phil eats his rather more mature buttered toast. It’s the most perfect morning Phil can remember in a long time

 

-

 

Phil’s been to the zoo with Skye many times, so he knows the enclosures well. Skye tells him and Clint about each of the animals they see, half facts from the signs around the zoo, half things she’s read or seen on nature documentaries, and a sprinkling of things she’s invented herself. Clint hoists her up on his hip so she can see further into the monkey enclosure, nodding in agreement when she points out ‘the queen monkey’. 

 

Phil hangs back and snaps a picture on his phone - it’s not been all that long, but Clint and Skye get on so well that he can’t help but hope to keep hold of this perfect moment. His time with Clint has been a series of perfect moments, and he’s just starting to realise that maybe Clint wants to hold on to these moments too. He’s had plenty of opportunities to leave, Phil works hard and doesn’t get to see him enough for one thing, but he’s stuck around, even through missed dates and Skye’s (thankfully infrequent) temper tantrums. Phil can hardly believe it.

 

Clint mouths “lunch?” over Skye’s head, and they shortly head off to the cafeteria, swinging Skye between them like their very own queen monkey. 

 

“So, about what you said this morning,” says Clint, when they’re all fed and Skye’s concentrating hard on the chocolate ice cream cone Phil caved and let her have. “About staying. Did you mean it?” 

 

He’s studiously avoiding Phil’s gaze until Phil reaches across the table to take his hand. They don’t usually discuss their relationship in front of Skye, but he can’t let Clint think he doesn’t want him more permanently a part of their lives. “Of course, Clint. More than anything.” 

 

“Yeah?” Clint says, eyes sparkling as he squeezes Phil’s hand back. “Like, moving in?” Skye hiccups and Clint shakes his head. “Sorry, we can talk about it later.” 

 

Skye has melted ice cream all over her cheeks, heaving a sigh as she puts the last piece of the cone down and pushes the tray away from her. “Well _I_ think,” she announces, licking her fingers one by one, “Clint should move in, because then he can make me waffles every day.”

 

“Oh, is that so?” Phil replies, while Clint looks surprised. “You know waffles are just for the weekend, right?” 

 

“I can make you breakfast,” interjects Clint. “But uh,” he darts a glance to Phil, “I make fruit smoothies during the week - how about a fruit salad?”

 

Skye thinks about it for a second and then nods very seriously. “OK.” 

 

-

 

Phil keeps waiting for the other shoe to drop, waiting for Clint to have second thoughts, waiting for Skye to turn on him, waiting for some random twist of fate to put an end to the quiet delight that his life has become, but it never does. Clint doesn’t have second thoughts, moving his few things in and fitting perfectly into their lives, his truck sitting comfortably in the second space in the driveway. Skye never turns on Clint, even the few tantrums that she pitches when she’s trying to test her boundaries are met with good humour but a firm resolve. 

 

Clint’s a natural with her, diplomatic but unmoving when he needs to be, even though he usually confesses later that he wasn’t sure if he was right to stand firm on whatever issue she was ‘debating’. Phil loves him the most in those moments, when Clint lets himself be raw and open, knowing how hard won Clint’s trust is. 

 

There is, however, a twist of fate. 

 

Phil gets out of the most boring meeting that has ever convened on earth to find that he has no fewer than 48 missed calls, about a dozen voicemails and a raft of text messages. His blood runs cold when he sees that they’re mostly from Skye’s school and then Clint. Something happened with Skye at school and now she’s been taken to the hospital by Clint, the last text being from Clint at the hospital telling him to get down there ASAP.

 

The journey to the hospital is a blur, and Phil’s pretty sure he’ll get a ticket or two for running a red light in his haste. When he finally finds the waiting area, something in his heart unclenches when he sees Clint. There he is, he has it under control.

 

He’s standing at the nurse’s station with Skye in his arms, her head pillowed on his shoulder. As Phil gets closer he can hear Clint talking in increasingly desperate tones with the nurse on duty, stopping when Phil appears next to him, one hand around his back.

 

“Oh, thank god,” Clint breathes, curling into Phil for a brief yet crushing hug. Skye’s small hand reaches out to grab at Phil’s sleeve, but stays where she is - there’s a little dried blood on her face from what looks like a cut on her hairline, but she’s alert and seems kind of bored if anything. Judging by the texts and the length of the meeting from hell, she’s been there a while. 

 

“Daddy look, I need stitches!” She moves to poke at her wound but Clint lets go of Phil and catches her hand before she can - it’s a practiced movement that speaks to Clint having done it more than once before. 

 

“Skye fell off the swing-set and these… people… won’t see her.” Clint grits his teeth and Phil’s heart warms at Clint’s contained frustration - he knows he’s not always been so good at controlling his temper. “You gotta sign a thing before they’ll do anything. I’m not… they won’t let me.”

 

The nurse behind the glass purses her lips in Clint’s direction, pushing a clipboard with a form that’s already mostly been filled out in Clint’s boxy handwriting through the little slot at the bottom of the glass. 

 

Phil fills out what he needs to and passes it back along with his driver’s licence, just for the nurse to tell them that they need to take a seat and someone will be with them shortly. Clint huffs in frustration, but does as he’s told. Skye wriggles out of Clint’s grasp - who seems reluctant to let her go, wringing his hands once she’s crawled into Phil’s lap. 

 

“You wanna tell me what happened, sweetheart?” Phil asks, and Skye looks away guiltily before explaining that she had a fight with some kid called Gideon. After she pushed him, since they were playing on the swing-set, when he pushed her back she fell off and wound up like this. 

 

“Yeah, but then what?” Clint says, and Skye looks indignant.

 

“Well, I climbed back up and pushed him off too!”

 

“Oh,” Phil says, stifling a laugh. That fits. “And how is Gideon?”

 

“He landed on his ass,” Skye replies, and Clint flushes next to her, mouthing ‘sorry’ over Skye’s head. 

 

Phil squeezes her, so relieved she’s mostly ok. “We don’t use that word, Skye.”

 

“Sorry, he landed on his stupid butt.” 

 

They don’t get a chance to go over any more before they’re called to be seen, Clint hanging back til Phil calls him after them. 

 

-

 

After a couple of butterfly stitches and a sticker for being so well behaved, Skye is discharged with strict instructions not to pick at her scab and for ‘her dads’ to keep an eye on her for the next 24 hours and if she’s sick or feeling dizzy to call a doctor. Phil doesn’t notice what the nurse said til he realises Clint’s sheepishly blinking Phil’s way. With Skye holding one hand, Phil reaches for Clint’s with the other.

 

They have to take their own cars when they leave since they drove to the hospital separately, with Clint taking a detour to grab them some take out for dinner. Phil’s just finished getting Skye changed out of the clothes that have blood spattered on them when he hears the front door. He leaves Skye to the elaborate mermaid castle she’s been building out of lego to find Clint dropping his keys in the bowl by the door.

 

“You ok?” Phil asks, taking the bag of Chinese food from him but staying there, the other hand on Clint’s cheek. His eyes are watery like he’s been crying, or maybe he’s just on the verge of tears. Clint doesn’t answer, just pulls Phil in for a hug. 

 

“I was so scared,” he breathes into Phil’s neck. “I couldn’t reach you and there was blood everywhere and. God Phil, what if something happened to her?”

 

“Hey, hey,” Phil pulls back to talk properly, make Clint understand it’s ok. “You were incredible today, Clint. Amazing. I was so scared til I saw you there, but there you were, taking care of our little girl. I love you so much. We both do.” 

 

“But I couldn’t do anything,” Clint protests. “I felt so useless.” 

 

Phil kisses him because he’s not sure words can convey just how he feels, hopes some kind of osmosis will explain the depth of his love for Clint and the way he’s so seamlessly a part of his and Skye’s lives. He’s a part of the family now, maybe forever. 

 

He takes a deep breath and lets words he’s tried to put together for months now spill out in a jumble. Grand gestures seem pointless in the face of the man he loves looking so unsure, specks of blood on his shirt and tears in his eyes. Maybe now is the perfect moment.

 

“I don’t want you to think this is just for practicality’s sake, even though there are practical reasons for it, but do you want to get married? Cause I do. I had a whole plan for how to ask you, waiting for the perfect moment, but I don’t - this is as perfect as it’s gonna get. And I don’t think I’ve loved you more than I do right now.” 

 

One tear escapes Clint’s blinking eyes, incongruous with the surprise on his face, the smile teasing at the corners of his mouth. “Yeah?”

 

“I’ll get down on one knee and do it properly another time, I promise.” 

 

Clint half laughs, half sobs, pulling Phil in for another crushing hug. “Yeah, Phil Coulson, I’ll marry you.” 

 

-

 

The wedding is a classy affair for the most part, with a few choice additions from Skye. She helps aunty Nat choose the flowers, and helps Phil pick a tie. She delights in sprinkling tiny gemstones over the tables for the reception, but when it comes to flowergirl duties she suddenly gets shy about stepping out first. In the end, she walks down the aisle between the two grooms, holding their hands before pulling them both where she thinks they should be and telling the officiant that she can start, to chuckles from the small crowd in Phil’s - _their_ \- back garden. 

 

Phil’s not sure what he says during the vows, even though he’s rehearsed them countless times. Even in the familiar surroundings of their home, he gets lost in Clint’s beautiful eyes, the love that openly shines out at Phil’s words. When it’s Clint’s turn to read his own, he recounts the first time they met, how he knew from that first date that there was something there when Phil pulled out the little purse from his pocket, and he reaches into his own pocket to pull out that same purple gemstone. 

 

“You had glitter in your hair, and jewels in your pockets. And just like that, I was in love.” 

 

They’re pronounced married, they kiss, and then Maria whispers something to Skye who runs over to be picked up, so the pick her up and kiss her too. Small hands muss both of their hair, and Phil freezes, looking over her head to Clint, who’s blowing raspberries on her cheek. Sure enough there’s glitter in his hair, glinting in the sunlight. 

 

“Did she get me?” Clint asks when he looks up, laughing when he sees what’s assuredly glitter in Phil’s hair. 

 

Phil laughs. “Welcome to the family.” 

 

 

 


End file.
